


As In A Dream

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-22
Updated: 2003-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Draco, seeking an apprenticeship, finds something else instead.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape
Kudos: 7





	As In A Dream

So there's this whole big thing where Harry kills Voldemort and the war ends and, to the surprise of many, the world just keeps on going its own merry way until somehow it's suddenly the last day of the last term of his last year and Draco is standing outside Snape's office with one hand raised to the door and parchment curled in his other sweaty fist. He's been standing there for minutes -- hours it feels like, but he can't quite bring himself to knock, because, what if Snape says "No"? which he won't because he's Draco's favourite Professor and Head of House and friend, maybe, and anyway Snape's the best potions master in the country and he'd never let Draco work for anyone less, but what if he does say "No?" -- when the door suddenly opens.  
  
"Draco," says Snape, an odd note in his voice which isn't quite surprise.  
  
"Professor--" starts Draco, then runs out of words and instead thrusts out the scroll, unable to stop his cheeks colouring.  
  
"What's this?" Snape takes it, unrolls it, glances through it. "A potion master's apprenticeship?"  
  
"Y-yes, sir," Draco stammers, and bites at his lower lip as Snape starts reading it again, slowly this time.  
  
"Hmm. Your father--" Snape looks up and pauses.  
  
Draco, realising he's still worrying his lip, tries to compose himself, straightening his spine, head up and shoulders back, and Snape makes a small noise, somewhere between catch of breath and cough, before tapping the scroll.  
  
"Your father would not approve."  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Another of the many reasons why I have never really cared much for Lucius." Snape steps back from the doorway, indicating that Draco should enter. "I have to see the Headmaster right now, but I won't be long; we shall discuss this when I return."  
  
He hands the parchment back to Draco, their fingers brushing before Snape abruptly lets go and swirls out of the office without another word, door slamming itself behind him.  
  
Draco sighs, dropping the request on Snape's desk and rubbing his hands dry on his robes as he moves nervously around the room -- which is stupid, it's just Snape's office, he's been here hundreds, thousands of times before in the last seven years -- peering into jars and bottles, covered beakers and sealed flasks. He glances through the potions store cupboard, making a mental note of which supplies needed refilling and is about to turn away when a silvery glint catches his eye.  
  
Pushed to the back of the shelf Draco finds a pensieve, full and shining. Bright shimmers rush across the surface as he pulls it out into view and he stares in wonder as faint shadows of faces tremble and vanish in their wake. These are Snape's memories, he thinks, Snape's thoughts; and, feeling like he's intruding, he goes to put the pensieve back but the movement brings images back to the surface and he suddenly recognises himself, not a reflection, a younger version, smirking and turning away into nothingness.  
  
Draco glances towards the closed door. Dumbledore always waffles on. He'd have time. He shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. But there's time. Snape won't be back for a while. Dumbledore always waffles. And it's not private, surely, if he's already in there. It's shared memories. Just a quick look won't harm. He takes another look at the door, then slowly leans forward. Sliding silver fills his vision until suddenly he's falling, twisting as the world tilts, and then--  
  
/loudLOUDcheering and standing by Snape in the staff Quidditch box, Draco watches himself snatch the snitch out of Cho's hands and come sliding to a air bruising stop right there, hair sweat slick, face reddened by wind chill and split by victorious ear to ear grin, pumping the snitch in his fist at Snape and whooping as/  
  
/Snape walks past his table, Draco with his head down, engrossed, quill moving fast and sure, biting at his lip as he writes, robes falling back off his shoulder and hair curling at his neck and Draco/  
  
/carried by his Quidditch team, crowing and pulling at his top as it rides up, flash of pale, taut belly as he/  
  
/turns his face up, wide and open and saying "You're the best teacher here, sir" with hopeless sincerity and/  
  
/in the hospital bed he looks so small, curled up around his injured arm, and Snape reaches out but does not quite touch his sleeping head, chest rising and/  
  
/falling out of the sky, leaping off the broom with eyes wide, shining with anger and humiliation, Draco storming past Snape flushed and glowing to yell wordlessly and yank off his gloves and throw them at the door/  
  
/to the changing rooms just slightly open, whisper of showers and a barest glimpse of water sliding down a curve of smooth, translucent skin and/  
  
/with his head back and laughing, Pansy wrapped around him, and Snape at the table, watching, hand clenched so tight around the goblet it starts to/  
  
/buckle of his Quidditch robes and Snape smiles and pushes Draco's hands away and brushes his fingers against the boy's stomach as he pulls the belt/  
  
/tightly squeezed into the alcove, Draco and Blaise so closely wrapped around each other it's impossible to tell where one ends and one begins, neither aware of their Professor watching, always/  
  
/watching through the gap as Draco turns in the showers, one hand on the wall, head ducked under the spray and his other hand moving on himself, wet sliding, his/  
  
/wand up pointing at Draco and Snape descends upon Harry in righteous fury, bellowing as/  
  
/in the mirror, Draco strips for him, a slow removal of robes, coils himself around Snape's reflection and turns to grin at the man standing all alone outside the mirror, staring and staring and never blinking at/  
  
/all of them standing and raising a toast in the common room to Draco who is ducking his head, trying to hide a smile, Draco who is/  
  
/practicing his dancing in an empty room, spinning in the firelight, holding/  
  
/his broom with a look of wonder, Draco/  
  
/shirtless and towelling his hair, Draco/  
  
/laughing on the steps, Draco/  
  
/napping in the chair, Draco/  
  
/eating, Draco/  
  
/Draco/  
  
/Draco/  
  
/Draco/  
  
\--Draco stumbles back from the pensieve, almost falling, grabbing onto the cupboard door for support and for a second he thinks he's taken the pensieve with him but it shakes and rights itself on the shelf, preservation runes on the frame momentarily glowing.  
  
He thinks about letting go of the door, but his knees don't seem to work. Tries to get his breathing under control. Snape... watched him? All those memories, seconds from here and there. A look. A grin. Some small movement that caught the eye. A laugh. A flash of skin. Snape watched him. Snape... wanted him?  
  
\--the mirror. Snape and himself in the mirror. _Erised_. The mirror Snape had destroyed. This last Christmas when Potter had been wandering around like a ghost, muttering about Sirius. And Snape. Coming back late to the common room and. Glass shards sparkling on his robes and. The look he gave Draco. That look--  
  
Snape wanted him.  
  
 **Snape**. wanted. **him**.  
  
Holy fucking Merlin.  
  
Footsteps in the corridor. He pushes the pensieve back into place, closes the cupboard doors, rushes to take a seat, rubbing at his face, desperately trying to steady his breathing.  
  
It's okay. It's okay. It's Professor Snape. Who's always been there. Who's always protected them. Who's always been kind and attentive and. It'll work out. It's okay.  
  
Draco takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Another. Okay. Another. Deep. Breath.  
  
Snape **wants** him.  
  
ohgod  
  
The door opens.  
  
Draco watches Snape enter and it's like a revelation, like it's all slow motion and mood lighting, like he's looked, yes, but he's never actually **looked** before, and it's all so **obvious** now, in the way Snape looks, even that quizzical reaction to the sudden blazing smile on Draco's face, obvious in the way he moves, obvious in the way he breaths, obvious in the way he talks.  
  
"I'm glad you came to me," says Snape. He sits on the other side of the wide desk, the parchment between them. "Ministry placements are all very well, but they are useless if you want to really learn the deeper, more exacting theory of potion making. A traditional apprenticeship is really the only way to go, even if it's not modern enough for the Reformists that seem to be springing up all over the place. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues, but I'm confident we'll be able to find you someone who will know how to challenge you, to make use of your skills," and he keeps talking but.  
  
His... Colleagues?  
  
What?  
  
Colleagues? Who said anything about.  
  
Draco stops smiling.  
  
And. Oh. Of **course** Snape's going to say that because he's all wound up tight and stupid and closed off and too bloody used to never getting what he wants or needs and really **really** stupid and he's saying something about "master working out of Essen who has been looking for help" and Draco says, practically shouts "No", surprising them both.  
  
After a moment, Snape says, slow, measured, "There are other people I can--" and Draco cuts him off with a shake of his head and a still-too-loud "I want you."  
  
Silence.  
  
Snape shifts in his seat. Draco tries to breathe.  
  
"You," says Snape.  
  
"This is not," says Snape.  
  
"This is a school, Draco," says Snape. "I have lessons to plan and conduct, other responsibilities; I'm flattered but I'm sorry to say I do not have the time to take on an apprentice. If you wanted to stay in the country, I'm sure--"  
  
"No," says Draco, and this time he's on his feet.  
  
"Draco, this--"  
  
"I. want. you." He comes around the desk, and Snape tries to back up but there's nothing between his chair and the wall. "Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me, when we both want me to stay?"  
  
"Draco," says Snape again, desperate, and his hands fumble, useless against robes and muscle as Draco climbs into his lap, straddling him in the chair, putting a hand on either shoulder.  
  
"I want you," says Draco, softly, intently. Sure. "I've always wanted you, I just. I didn't understand."  
  
Leans in. Close. So close. A breath between them.  
  
"Are you," says Snape and Draco feels the words on his lips, "are you sure you" and Draco laughs and it's smothered between them as Snape closes that last distance in a sudden, hard press of lips. Arms encircling, pulling them tight against each other and it's hot and awkward and crowded in the chair and all strangle angles and just.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Rubbing against each other, scrabbling at robes, pulling and sliding until bare flesh met bare flesh. Breaking the kiss to gasp breathe and dive back in, tongues in each other's mouths, hands messing hair, marking skin. Clothes half on, half off. Both hard, both together, feeling the blood move, moving in response. Thrusting against each other. Draco moaning into Snape's mouth. Fingers in black hair, hard enough to hurt. Snape's hands. Fingers against his shoulder blades, sliding across the small of his back, marking out the shape of hips, curling round and squeezing and pulling him in **tight** and. Little whimpers. Snape hushing him, holding him still, moving against him and. pushing. there. right. there.  
  
Draco breaks, cries and clenches and comes, sobbing against Snape, saying "sorry" over and over.  
  
Snape, around him, holding him together, easy, low whispering. "Don't be."  
  
"I mean. For not knowing. For not knowing what I **knew**. For not. Oh."  
  
Snape's fingers against his lips and more. Slick salty taste of himself. Tasting himself on Snape. Sucks fingers into his mouth. His taste. Snape's taste. Takes the hand and presses his lips to the palm, to the wrist. Worries at skin with teeth and Snape. Growls. And he's just, but. Visceral reaction. Hitting some primal switch somewhere, twitching, body responding without the brain.  
  
And they're moving, up, out of the chair. Draco held. Lifted onto the desk. A flick of tongue against his lower lip. Sliding inside. Robes falling and they're not his and. wow. that means that. Forcing his eyes open to look. at Snape. The whole of. The thick, wet length of him. Bright predatory light in those black eyes, bruised lips coming back in to claim Draco's own, hands on Draco, pushing aside robes and laying him down on the desk. Draco pulling his legs up, pulling Snape down, perfect crushing weight. Searches with hands, closes them around hot cushioned steel.  
  
Says "want" against Snape's neck. Says "need" in Snape's mouth.  
  
And then a sudden, horrifying absence, a brush of cold air; and Draco manages a wordless protest before the heat comes back, the weight back and. something new. Snape kissing the whimpers from his lips. Hands on his chest. Against nipples. Pinching white sparks. One hand on his belly, the other sliding lower. Holding Draco as he tries to arch up, back off desk. Fingers teasing, brushing against him but briefly. Gone. Gone lower. Rubbing smaller and smaller circles around his. Gone suddenly, and an odd noise and then they're back and slick, suddenly slick and in and. Bright burn of pain except. Teeth against his nipple and how is how supposed to concentrate on both at. Fingers moving, moving inside and. Snape growl again. Fingers. Twisting and pressing back and. Snape moving slow, teasing, bastard, need it right. there.  
  
"Draco," says Snape. Stops moving, says it again until Draco's eyes open, until Draco's head comes up to meet that burning gaze. Pulls Draco up, to the edge of the desk, lets Draco's hand find him, find the heat and weight and wet slickness of it and says "I'm going to fuck you now."  
  
Draco gasps a come on, a breathless almost moan, and Snape's hands on his thighs, pushing his legs up and out and leaning in and. sudden mounting pressure and. it'stoobigit's. White sparks in his head and pushing. pushing. and. and. inside. heat inside. full. more than and still coming. Deeper. Snape hissing obscenities, pushing down, down and in. Draco's head shaking uncontrollably. And flesh slaps against flesh as Snape bottoms out and they both gasp and.  
  
hold.  
  
and.  
  
Snape retreats; Draco cries out, cries again as Snape slides back. Slow out, slow return. Maddening. Twisting and pushing back and. bluewhitehotexplosion in his head, his cock. And Snape there, knows, hitting the same spot over and over. Draco screaming and thank fuck for thick stone walls because he's never. Snape pumping against him, still slow, still too. He's never been this, this hotfullloud this. Snape moving. Slow relentless weight. Slow.  
  
"Not fuh." Draco's words dissolving. Pushes down against Snape rising. Grabs wildly at the desk, at nothing, at Snape. Things falling. Draco hooking an arm around Snape's neck, pulling himself up, saying "fast" and making it a command. Snape complying, pulling almost out and then slamming back in, full length in the stroke, wet slap of flesh, lifting Draco with the force of it. Draco's own weight forcing Snape deeper. Rocking together. Desk shaking. Draco pushing himself against Snape. Skin to skin, sweat slick. Moving. Pounding. Together.  
  
"Can I," Draco gasps against Snape's shoulder, "Can I--? May I--?"  
  
"Yes," says Snape, "yes, yes, a thousand times, yes," and, pushes through Draco's writhing and clenching, wet heat between them and still pushing, harder, faster, and crying "Draco" and again, a moan of a name and shoves, hard, entire weight into Draco and Draco's weight coming back into his, mouth on his, locked together, bound together in heat and breath and flesh, squeezed close as possible as Snape sprays, deep, deep inside Draco.  
  
And, afterwards, still inside, wrapped around each other, Draco finishes "--stay? Can I?"  
  
"Always," says Snape and the rest is lost to kisses.


End file.
